i'm feeling boaty

Catvent calendar: Day nineteen

I do have other things to tell you that arent about cats, I promise. Theyre ace, too. Give me a couple of days.

Now, given that guest catventer Emrys has shared an My stupid cat story, I realised I had my own, from ages ago. So, though it is, clearly already on this site, I thought I should repost it, so it looks like Ive really written something for today when I really havent. YAY archives!

THE STUPIDEST CAT ID EVER HEARD

Oh, if only I had known

Bobbins was stupid.

He was very stupid.

Cute, but really, really stupid. His name was Bobbins, for flatulent reasons, but that’s another story.

Usually they were fed pretty run of the mill food, dry food actually, in an attempt to stop Bobbins getting any more obese than he already was.

Of course, Bobbins was getting fat mainly because he was eating at every other house in the road as well as our own, but we didn’t know that at the time, so we carried on feeding him diet pussy food, in the hope that he’d get thinner.

Occasionally, however, for a treat, we’d boil up some cheap fish, and they’d have a little bit at a time, to go with the diet food, which let’s face it, must have been horrible, as all diet food is.

Now, bobbins could smell the fish boiling away, as could the other (’clever’) cat, Poppy. But while Poppy would sit quietly, waiting, Bobbins would make your life hell until he got his fish.

While it was boiling away, in the pan, and while it was sitting in a sieve, cooling down, he’d spring from chair to chair, leap up onto your shoulders, find a place of reasonable height to stand and catch you with his claws every time you wandered past, wander along any shelves he could reach, swing on the door handle, break stuff and fart.

The fish took about 20 minutes to cool to a cat-edible standard.

There was no way Bobbins was waiting 20 minutes.

After about five he would annoy you so much that you’d cave in.

“Alright,” you’d say. “I’ll give you some fish, but I’m telling you, Cat, it’s hot. You don’t want it now, you want to wait. You just don’t know it. Alright. Yes, I’m fetching it. Get your claws out of my arm. Now, or there’ll be no fish. Stupid Mog.”

Then you’d put the bowl on the floor, after mashing it with a spoon to try and cool it, and you’d retreat to the stairs, sit down and watch.

Bobbins would rush at the bowl, open his mouth, just get his little cat lips around the steaming fish, and then spring backwards, in suprise. He would look around the kitchen, suspiciously, and his gaze would rest on you. He’d trot over.

paddapaddapaddapaddapadda.

“This fish is Hot!” he would say, “You have given me hot fish! Why?”

“Look, Bobbins!” You would say, and point – “Fish!”

And he would turn around and look where you were pointing. “Oooh!” the cat would say, racing over to his bowl, “Someone’s given me fish, yum yum yum yum… Ouch!”

And with his little puss lips almost around the pile of steaming fish, he’d jump backwards, then look around the room suspiciously.

His gaze would settle on you, and he’d come trotting over.

paddapaddapaddapaddapadda

“Excuse me” He would say, “This fish is hot! You have given me hot fish! Why?”